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THE HAVERSACK. 



PUBLISHED BY THE , , 



COMMITTEE ON HOSPITALS FOR THE', GREAT CENTRAL FAIR 
FOR THE U. S. SANITARY COMMISSION. 



PHILADELPHIA: 

HENRY B. ASHMEAD, BOOK AND JOB PRINTER, 

Nos. 1102 AND 1104 Sansom Street. 

1864. 






Sonne nnkBown 



u 



OIRCULAK 



OFFICE OF THE GREAT CENTRAL FAIR 

FOR THE U. S. SANITARY COMMISSION. 

PldlacMpMa, April, 18G4. 

Soldiers and Seamen ! The Committee ou Hospitals propose to issue 
a volume written, printed, and sold by j'ourselves, at the GREAT CEN- 
TRAL FAIR for the U. S. Sanitary Commission, to be held iu Philadel- 
phia early in June. 

This book shall contain brief and graphic sketches of Army and N'aval 
Life ; accounts of hardships and privations of Prison Life; acts of per- 
sonal daring and hair-breadth escapes ; and reminiscences of the march 
and bivouac, — of the conflict and Hospital. 

To enable them to effect this purpose, they urgently request and solicit 
the aid and assistance of Soldiers and Seamen of the Army and Navy of 
the United States. Every one has a story, either of himself or of his 
comrade ; and any and all communications will be most gladly received 
and acknowledged. 



In accordance with the tenor of the above Circular, the Committee on 
Hospitals present the accompanying Sketches, as the result of their efforts 
in this project. From unavoidable circumstances, no response has been 
received from the Navy. And they offer these simple and truthful 



narratives as illustrations of the Lights and Shadows of Army- 
Experience. 

LADIES' COMMITTEE: 

Mrs. G. W. Harris, Chahinan. 

Miss Julia Dunlap, Mrs. T. Newbold 

Mrs. Gen. Dana, Mrs. Bready, 

Mrs. Admiral Lardner, Mrs. Mallery, 

Mrs. Commodore Engle, . • Miss Dunlap, 

Mrs. Commander Turner, Miss A. E. Jones, 

Mrs. Charles Cushman, Miss Mc Ilvaine. 



GENTLEMEN'S COMMITTEE : 

Dr. E. Dyer, Chairman. 

William F. Jenks, H. C. Parry, Asst. Surg. U. S. A. 

Dr. E. a. Smith, Dr. L. S. Bolles, 

Dr. Wm. W. Keen, Jr., J. E. Mears, 

Geo. F. Knorr, John E. Bready. 



THE HAVERSACK. 



REMINISCENCES OF PRISON LIFE. 

BY ONE OF THE IlAJSnC AND FILE. 

I WILL commence by saying that I Avas Color-bearer in the 
11th Regiment Massachusetts Volunteers, at the first battle of 
Bull Run, and received a slight wound in that engagement. 
I was taken to Sudley Church, (about half a mile from the 
battle-field), which was used as a hospital at that time. 
About sun-down, on that day, we were visited by a squad of 
rebel officers, who informed us that they had gained the day, 
and that we must consider ourselves prisoners of war. They 
added, that we need give ourselves no uneasiness, as we should 
be treated like ivhite men, and should be sent home as soon as 
we were able to go; but, like most of their promises, they 
were not fulfilled. One of these rebel officers asked me what 
State I was from ; and, on telling him that I was from Massa- 
cbusetts, he turned up his chivalrous nose, and said it was 

" the meanest d d State in the whole country ;" then 

turned and left me, for which I was not sorry, nor did 1 call 
him back. The next day, a man who came, to see "the 
Yanks," told us that it was fortunate that none of us came 
within range of his wife, for if we should she would "broom- 
stick us to death." She, however, overcame her prejudices 
against us so much as to visit us in the afternoon with her 
husband ; and, after walking round in silence among the men 
for about an hour, she fell into conversation and found out 
what we were fighting for ; this changed her views completely. 
She visited us every day, and did everything she could for us 
while we were there. This we found to be the case wherever 



6 THE HAVERSACK. 

we went ; after conversing with us for a short time, and find- 
ing that there was something a little human in us, the people 
were ready to grant us all the privileges they could, but they 
were fetv at the best. During the time that we remained here, 
we had nothing whatever to eat but what the men who were 
able to ffo out brought to us from the haversacks of dead 
soldiers on the field, and also wlfat the man and his wife whom 
I have mentioned, gave to us. 

I left this place, in company with several others, for Man- 
asses Junction, remaining there for a day and night, when Ave 
were placed on the cars to go to Richmond. On reaching 
there, we were conveyed to the Hospital from the cars in 
ambulances. The building used for this purpose was built for 
an almshouse, and very comfortable. While there, we received 
very kind treatment, as the Sisters of Charity had taken the 
whole control of it ; before this was the case, we understood 
that the men had suffered much from neglect. We could find 
no fault here with the food or our medical treatment. The 
doctor, who had charge of the room in which I was, treated us 
very kindl3^ There was one of our boys who was extremely 
ill, and he brought him ponstantly little luxuries from his 
home ; but he was soon clischarged, and we thought it was 
because he had treated us so well. Some ladies also brought 
us fruit, cake, candies, and other luxuries, but this stopped as 
soon as discovered. 

I remained in this hospital for six weeks, and was then sent 
to one of the tobacco warehouses on Main Street, a three story 
brick building. I was placed in the third story, the first being 
occupied by the guard, and the second and third by the priso- 
ners. Our rations here were very much changed, consisting 
of bread and a small piece of beef for breakfast ; dinner and 
supper came together, of rice water, called soup, with occa- 
sionally a small piece of meat in it, but very rarely. This 
was all we had to eat while we were there. The floor on 
Avhicli we laid at night was covered with "Yanks;" and, 
although they knew that such was the case, they fired up into 
the building several times whilst I was there. One night, 



THE HAVERSACK. 7 

after we had all lain down, one of our men raised uj) for some- 
thing, and just as he did so, a ball passed up, directly behind 
his back, which must have passed through his body had he 
been lying down, as he had been but the moment before. 

While we were here, we got out of money and tobacco ; now' 
a soldier can get along without the first named article, but hardly 
without the last, therefore a consultation was held, and we 
came to the conclusion that there must be some tobacco in the 
loft of the building, which was used as a store-room, but the 
difficulty was to get there, as the door leading to it was pad- 
locked, and we dared not break that, for fear of discovery. 
After closely examining the ground, we found out that there 
was sufficient room between a window and the stairs to allow a 
man to get through on to the stairs wdiich led to the loft ; one 
of our men succeeded in doing this, — reaching the loft, and 
passing the tobacco to another in waiting below; and, in 
this way, we supplied ourselves with enough to last for two 
months. 

I Avas kept in this warehouse for about a month ; and then, 
with about one hundred and fifty others, Avas moved to an- 
other, as the weather Avas too warm to have such numbers 
croAvded into one building. As I Avas seated on the AvindoAv- 
seat here one day, I heard the report of a gun, and felt the 
dust fly up in my face ; I rose to see what it Avas, and found 
that one of the guard had fired at a man sitting in the next 
window, and had come Avithin three inches of hittine; me. A 
few days after, AvhiLst a man was hanging his blanket out of 
one of the back AvindoAvs, on the third floor, the guard sang 
out to him from beloAV, to put his head in ; the man did not 
hear him ; the guard called out again, firing as he spoke, and 
inflicting a mortal Avound, from Avhich he died in ten minutes : 
his' body was taken aAvay and buried immediately. In one 
half hour, the guard avIio shot him Avas marching round the 
prison Avith a sAvord on, and boasting of having been promoted 

for shooting "a d d Yank." Such Avas the fulfillment of 

the promise that Ave should be treated like wliltc men, and 
added one more leaf to their chivalrous Avreath. 



O THE HAVERSACK. 

After we had been here about three or four weeks, the 
"Dutch Sergeant," as he was called (although he acted as 
commander-in-chief of the prison, or appeared to do so to us), 
came in and formed us in line to call the roll, ordering every 
man as his name was called to say whether he had been 
wounded, as those who had not been were to be sent at once 
to South Carolina and New Orleans ; while the wounded were 
to remain for the present, to await exchange. As I was among 
the latter class, I was sent with them to another warehouse, 
while the well men were sent South. The officers were con- 
fined in this building and all had the expectation of get- 
ting home shortly, but we soon found that for us it was to be 
the expectation but not the home. Here we engaged exten- 
sively in bonework ; there was ahvays a rush for the bones 
from the meat, which we made into rings, shields, and other 
fancy articles. Men might be seen at all times standing round 
the room rubbing down the pieces of bone against the brick 
wall, to make them smooth ; this was slow work, and we were 
very glad to get a few files after a time, so that we could get 
on faster. Some of the men thought that their shields would 
sell better to the "Johnny Rebs " by putting their own 
emblems upon them, but they soon found that they did not 
like them half so well as they did those of the "Yanks," and 
therefore that there was no object in making them. 

We got out of tobacco here, and had to resort to strategy 
once more. We knew that there was plenty of it in a small 
room next ours, directly over the rebel officer's room who had 
charge of us; but, on trying to break it open, we were dis- 
covered, and the door securely nailed up to prevent future 
efi"orts. We were, therefore, obliged to adopt some other plan, 
and soon decided on the following one. There was a large pile 
of thin boards in the yard, and we were allowed, if so inclined, 
to take them and build bunks in our room to sleep on; some of 
these had been put up against the partition which divided our 
room from the one which held the coveted tobacco. A 
lot of us assembled in that corner, dancing and singing, in 
order to make as much noise as possible, to drown other 



THE HAVERSACK. 



9 



sounds ; one of us then got under the bunk with a saw made 
out of the back of a knife, sawing a hole large enough for him to 
crawl through. He passed out to us about two hundred pounds 
of tobacco, supplying us with the necessary weed once more at 
the enemy's expense. The loss was soon discovered, but the 
strictest search for a long time failed to disclose anything, 
until an officer chanced to look under the bunk, and discovered 

our mode of entrance. "Well," said he, "I'll be d d if 

you Yanks don't beat all ; there's no use in trying to keep 
anything from you ; but just remember, if you attempt that 
again, at the slightest sound from there, the guard shall be 
\ordered to fire into the room, and some of you will suffer." 
\We did not, of course, try it again, as we were amply supplied 
for the time we remained, but we understood afterwards that 
another raid had been made, and two hundred pounds more 
obtained without discovery. 

It was amusing to hear the " Dutch Sergeant" call the roll. 
lie used to come up with two or three of the guard ; and if we 
w^-e not all up and ready to fall into line, he would fly round, 
swUr, and strike the men who were not up a blow with the flat 
of ais sword. This treatment continued until we were sent to 
Tuscaloosa, under his charge, in the latter part of November, 
whei^ he turned round completely, and treated us as kindly as 
his own men. He called us his "Yankee Chums," and when- 
ever \ve were insulted on the way, he would draw his revolver 
and tWeatcn to shoot them on the spot. Whilst we stopped at 
Augusta, Georgia, a woman came out of the crowd which had 
gathered to see us, and looked at us steadily for about fifteen 
minut^ in perfect silence. She then turned and asked one at 
her sii, if we were Yankees. On being told that we were, 
she repeated the question in perfect amazement, asking if he 
was sur« of it; and, being told that it was certain, she said,. 
" Why, Ihey look a good deal like our men !" 

We ah-ived at Tuscaloosn in four or five days, when the 
" Dutch ^Sergeant" started to find quarters for us. He was 
obliged ti place us in an old building that had been used for 
storing catton ; but he soon informed us that his "Yankee 



10 THE HAVERSACK. 

Chums" must liave abetter place than that, and he would find 
one for them. There was a large building in the city, which 
had been used as a " Hotel and U. S. Court," the latter 
words had been scraped off, but the " U. S." could still be 
faintly seen. This, our friend offered to rent ; but the owner 
hearing what purpose it was for, declined renting it -on any 
terms, when the Sergeant informed him that he should take it, 
as he had one hundred and fifty guard and five hundred 
"Yankee Chums," who would all fight for him; without an- 
other word, he ordered us to march in and take the hotel, 
which we did without trouble, and a most comfortable place it 
proved. We had also better rations here than since we had 
been taken prisoners. On Christmas Day, the Sergeani 
treated us to coffee and sweet potatoes at his own expense ; h3 
was very kind to us about our rations, listened to our com- 
plaints, investigated them, and often punished the offende:-s 
who had the charge of them. The way that we obtainsd 
coffee here was to commit some offence, for which we were put 
in the guard-house, which was over the store-room where the 
coffee was ; we then lowered ourselves through a trap-doo' in 
-the floor, got the coffee, and passed it up to some one in rait- 
ing above ; in this way, by taking turns, we kept ourselves 
■ supplied pretty much all the time. About the 1st of Febru- 
ary, we received some clothing from the Government, and 
-Massachusetts also sent her men some, — thus I was fivored 
with a change of clothing, the first since I had been taken 
prisoner. On the strength of this arrival, we had i dress 
parade on the 22d, and celebrated the birthday of the 
"Father of our Country" in a large hall that there was in the 
building. 

We had here a Dramatic Club, which gave two or tlree per- 
formances, consisting of selections from Shakespeare, recita- 
tions, "nigger singing," &c., &c., to which spectators from out- 
side were admitted and seemed much pleased, especially with the 
"nigger singing." At one of the performances, they tlirew more 
than five dollars on the stage (^. e., the floor) to them ; but one 
or two of t ur number taking advantage of citizens being there, 



THE HAVERSACK. 11 

dressed in citizen's dress and escaped. They were soon cap- 
tured, but an end was thus put to this amusement. 

We signed a parole here on the 23d of February, to bo sent 
home, and left Tuscaloosa on the 1st of March ; but when we 
reached Weldon, we were ordered to gO to Salisbury, North 
Carolina, as Lincoln had broken his agreement with regard to 
exchange, so they said, — but, of course, we never believed 
them. We afterwards supposed that they had made us sign a 
parole as they were short of guard, and thus might make sure 
that we should not try to escape. 

We arrived at Salisbury on the 14th day of March, where 
we had the poorest rations of any place we were in. We re- 
mained here till the 23d of May ; and, after signing another 
parole, we started for liome ; and never can I forget the feel- 
ing I experienced on beholding the "Old Flag" after ten 
months absence from it. 

It Avas on Sunday afternoon that we were towed down the 
Tar River in flat boats, to Washington, North Carolina, where 
we were to land. When we were within about a mile of it, we 
saw a small boat start from one of our gunboats and row for 
us, with a white flag at the boAV and the stars and stripes at 
the stern. From the moment we first saw the boat till she got 
Avhere we could see the stars and stripes, you might have heard 
a pin drop in any part of the boat ; but when she turned stern 
too, a breeze started up, and blew the dear Old Flag out in its 
full length. Such a cheer as went up then from one and all I 
never heard before in all my life, and never shall again. 

We were warmly welcomed by the men, each one trying to 
outdo the other in doing favors to us. We started for New- 
bern the next morning, in the transport-ship " Hossack ;" and 
after remaining there two days, sailed for New York, where 
we arrived on Saturday morning, taking the Fall River route 
for home,, arriving there on Sunday, June 1st, after this long 
and weary confinement. 

After remaining at home six weeks, I was ordered to report 
to Camp Parole, Annapolis, thence to join my regiment. I 
was in the Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville, and Gettysburg 



12 THE HAVERSACK. 

fights; was wounded in the hitter, and hrought to this hospital, 
in Philadelphia, where I have been ever since. 

I shall leave for home in a few days, and therefore shall not 
have the pleasure of being at the " Great Central Fair ;" but I 
trust that those who are doing so much for it, will meet with 
the reward that they deserve for their untiring exertions in 
behalf of the suffering soldier. • 

Aaron Bradshaw, 

Sergeant Company K, 11th Massachusetts Volunteers. 
Dorchester, Mass. 



LOOK TO THE END. 

Life is but a Book ! the days of man its leaves, 
"Whereon impressed our actions are bj what the heart receives, 
Which printer like, each day records with photographic skill. 
Not only deeds, but thonghts and words, be they good or ill. 

The Infant's but a little Tract! and simply one of love, 

That passing through tl^is troubled vale, attracts our thoughts above, 

For consolation and for help, where only we may look. 

To find direction fur the heart, to print a holy Book. 

The life of Youth a Scrap Book is' of letters gay and bright, 

Where Evil hath assumed the garb of pleasure and delight, 

To lead the mind, direct the heart, those tender leaves to fill. 

With deeds, not done for "His dear sake," and thoughts less worthy still. 

Manhood's life, a Volume is 1 when reason's subtle power. 

Assumes the guidance of the heart, the record of the hour ; 

And if the Press of" Faith" is used with type so clear and bright. 

Those leaves, when " Death" shall bind them up shall stand the test of Light. 

Old age I the full leaved Folio ! of man's allotted days, 
Beoun with love, sees pleasure through, then comes to reason's ways, 
Licreasing powers of knowledge then, to thee, ! man is given, 
To make thy Book when fidl and bound, a pass for thee to Eleaven. 

Let us then look, who favored are, to reach raaturer age, 
For knowledge, that will aid the heart to fill each daily page 
With deeds of love ! to God above for blessings he doth send. 
That so our book. of Life, may be, a good book to the end. 

Christian St. Hospital, W. Colms, 

Philadelphia, Ocloha; 1862. 31st. Kegt. N. Y. Vols. 



SOLDIER LIFE QJ JOHN W. WHAPLES, 

OF NEW YORK. 

I enlisted in Buffalo, New York, October 9, 1861, in Com- 
pany C, 100th Regiment, New York Volunteers. We left for 
Washington, March 17, 1862. There we were organized with 
First Brigade, Second Division, Fourth Army Corps. About 
three WBeks after we encamped near Alexandria, Virginia. I 
there slept on the ground for the first time ; rising in the 
morning with two inches of snow on our blankets. Our brig- 
ade took the transport " Constitution," two days after our ar- 
rival in Alexandria, for Fortress Monroe, Virginia. On our 
way down the Potomac one pilot ran us aground opposite a 
rebel battery. [Perhaps he wished to communicate with his 
friends !!] Two gun-boats came to our protection. We safely 
reached Fortress Monroe three days after the fight between the 
3Ierrimac and the Monitor. From there we started on the 
Peninsula campaign. We left the transport at Newport News, 
and encamped at Camp Riply. There I was chosen color- 
hearer of the regiment. Then commenced our heavy marching, 
until we were halted by our faithful skirmishers near Yorktown. 
Our Brigade General, Nagley, was constantly with the picket 
line, and appeared more like a sentinel on duty than a General in 
command. I have known him to come to the reserve and lie down 
with the men, and entertain them with stories through the 
whole night. Omitting the routine duty of camp life and the 
familiar history of the evacuation of Yorktown by the rebels, 
I pass on to the battle of Williamsburg, the first in which we 
were engaged. We were ordered to the extreme right for a 
flank movement and to prevent the evacuation of Williamsburg. 
We were victorious, capturing some 7000 prisoners. One divi- 
sion under Greneral Casey was ordered to the advance of the 
army moving toward Richmond. Nothing special occurred 
until we reached the Chickahominy, where, during a brisk 
artillery duel the rebels fired Bottom Bridge, which was in 



14 THE HAVKRSACK. 

flames as we drove them from the river. The loss of this 
bridge detained us a week, as we were compelled to lay our 
pontoons. We still led the advance to Fair Oaks, where we 
were engaged in a serious combat. Our brigade took the initi- 
ative in this battle, which commenced about 1| P. M. About 
2 P. M. General Casey rode up and ordered our regiment to 
charge : during which charge I was wounded three times. 
Still I felt determined not to quit the field. To save our bat- 
tery, we were ordered to make the second charge, in which I 
received tliree more wounds, but still felt proud to shake the 
banner of my country in the face of the enemy. On return- 
ing to the rifle-pits I received yet another tvoimd, and although 
weak and faint from the loss of blood, I still bore my proud 
banner with me, my hands being glued to the flagstaff" with my 
own blood. Two of these Avounds Avere of a very serious 
character — one through my neck came fearfully near cutting 
the jugular vein, and dislocating my neck ; one entered my 
left side, where it yet remains. 

I was helped from the field and soon brought to Washington. 
[Douglass Hospital.] In the adjoining bed, Ward D, lay a 
rebel familiarly called a "Live Tiger." I felt greatly vexed 
at this fellow, who would not taste food or drink until I 
had partaken of the same. One of the sesesh women who 
used to bring him delicacies, one day commenced a conversa- 
tion in a low tone of voice, which I would not suffer and had her 
excluded from the hospital. I will now pass on to December 
11, 1862, when I had so far recovered as to rejoin my regi- 
ment, at Gloucester Point, Virginia, from which we soon sailed 
to Hilton Head, South Carolina. About the last of Febuary 
General Hunter reviewed the whole army, and our regiment 
was ordered to sieze Coles Isiand, in Charleston harbor, at all 
hazards. This we did on the 3d of March, We grounded on 
the bar, but were landed by the aid of the gun-boats McDon- 
ald and Pawnee. We remained on this island one week in 
sight of the enemy without reinforcements, in which time we 
had several artillery duels. Our regiment was again honored 
by being ordered to sieze Folly Island, which was cheerfully 



THE HAVERSACK. 15 

obeyed. Here we erected batteries for our protection in the 
siezing of Morris Island, to which responsible post our regi- 
ment was again ordered about the first of June. Quietly 
working through the night, concealed by the woods, in the 
morning our batteries opened and shelled the island for some 
three hours, when we charged across Lighthouse inlet and took 
possession of the lower end of Morris Island, capturing 160 
prisoners. 

On the 18th July, General Gillmore held a council of war, 
when the 54th Massachusetts (Colored) Regiment was desig- 
nated to charge the rebel battery Wagner, supported by our 
regiment, called ^^ the Blood// One Hundredth,'' because of the 
terrible slaughter of our men. In this charge, while I was 
standing on the parapet of Wagner, I received a terrible 
wound in my head, made with a pike, (or man catcher,) crack- 
ing my scull. This caused me to renew my hospital experi- 
ence-. Bad as was this wound, in seven weeks I again returned 
to my regiment. Then commenced the long series of entrench- 
ments, or siege approaches to the rebel works, Wagner and 
Sumpter. I was honored by being one of ten detached from 
my company to work the 100-pound Parrott gun on the left 
of the 2d Parallel ; and it gave me great pleasure to send the 
iron missile to its home, and greater still to send the first 
compliments of "Uncle Sam," in the shape of Greek fire into 
the nest of Secessionists, where Rebellion was born. It was 
my great happiness to participate in the capture of Wagner 
and the reduction of Sumter, and at intervals sending shell 
into Charleston. 

Passing over the laborious and continued siege operations, 
until December 11, 1863, an accident occurred in the explo- 
sion of a shell about a yard from me, which destroyed my 
right eye and nearly ruined my left, also carrying away half 
of my right foot, and dislocating the cap of my left knee, as 
well as filling my face with powder, which I shall carry to my 
grave, and severely injuring my right hand. I wish here to ex- 
press my grateful thanks to Dr. E. Dyer, for partially restoring 
the sight of my left eye, so that I can move about with compara 



16 THE HAVERSACK. 

tive comfort. Though I carry one rebel ball in my body, and 
thirteen wounds received in ray glorious country's cause, I do 
not regret the sacrifice I have made for God, ray country and 
liberty. I cannot close without thanking the many friends 
who have shown me kindness, and especially my dear sister, 
Julia R, Price, who came to Morris Island through almost 
insurmountable difficulties, borne on by a sister's love, to nurse 
a wounded brother, on what she supposed was his death-bed. 
Her reward is a brother's blessing, added to the privilege of 
firing a shell into the city of Charleston, which she did in 
February, 1864. God bless our country, is the prayer of so- 
called "Happy Jack." 

Hospital, West Philadelphia, 
April 24, 1864. 



THE FATHER'S LAMENT. 

Written from facts of which the author, C R K , Go. D, 19<7t Reyt. 

Maine Vols., teas an eye-witness. 

The sun had gone his daily round, 

And, from his labor to seek rest, 
Behind the hill-tops, going down, 

Sinking slowly in the West. 

His last rays still dimly shone, 

Kissing the top of a stately pine % 

That to uncommon height had grown, 
Twined thickly round with creeping vine. 

Glimmering camp-fires might be seen 

In the distance dimly burning ; 
Sentinels on their muskets lean 

With lazy air, quite unconcerning. 

The bugle had not yet proclaimed 

The hour for soldiers to retreat — * 
In red rose tints the camp-fires flamed 

As we gathered in ihe street. 

There's one that from our midst had gone, 

Taken by death's relentness hand — 
We missed his sparklmg wit, that shone 

In splendor 'mong our little band. 

His weeping Father had just come. 

To find the body of his son. 
And take it to his cheerless home — 

Made so by work that death had done. 

With pick and spade, we made our way 
Toward the grave-yard's lone retreat, 

Unaided by the light of day, 

With naught but moon to guide our feet. 

Arrived, our work we soon begun. 

That weejiing father standing by, 
Anxious to see his lifeless son, 

His bosom rent by many a sigh. 

* Retreat — the hour of sun-dowu. 



18 THE HAVERSACK. 

The clay now being all removed, 
With care, from off the coffin-lid. 

We raised the form of him we loved — 
No word we spake, the scene forbid. 

The moon-beams, bursting from a cloud, 
Shone sadly on his pallid face : 

His form unwrapped by robe or shroud ; 
An open field his resting-place. 

There he lay, like one in sleep, 

Curls clustering round his manly brow — 

That father o'er his child did weep — 
" I have no son to love me now ! 

" Thou stay of my declining years, 
Youngest lamb of all my flock — 

Thou center of my hopes and fears — 
It breaks my heart to give thee up. 

" I'm not alone in my lament — 
A mother's heart feels more than mine ; 

Hours in silent grief she's spent, 
Her tender heart near rent in twain. 

" The sun-light of our household's gone, 
Why should we care to longer live? 

Those eyes are closed that love-lit shone — 
He's gone that joy to us did give. 

" Oh ! would that I were in thy place. 
My son, and thou alive in mine! 

But, as it is, God give me grace 
Meekly my will to His resign." 

As the old man his wail did cease, 

A deep-toned bell of neighboring tower 

Did the solemn scene increase, 
As it tolled the midnight hour. 

Our mournful duty being done. 

Each sought his couch for quiet rest, 

With seeds of sadness deeply sown 
Within each pity-hardened breast. 



UNION REFRESHMENT SALOONS, PHILA. 

Dear Jack : — I take the within lines from a continuation 
of events since we left Buffiilo. You will perceive that there 
is neither beginning or end, and remember, it is my first at- 
tempt, so, make all allowances. 

I really think that angels make it their dwelling place, 
You can see the patriotism shining in the ladies' face, 
The welcome that they gave us, the supper table set 
Such a supper of good things, we soldiers, seldom get, 

The ladies, they were neatly dressed in red and white and blue. 
Their eyes, so black and sparkling, they'd pierce you through and through, 
And if they saw a bashful man, they would not let him wait 
But anxiously they'd watch him and keep piling up bis plate. 

I will now describe to you, that is, if I am able, 
The good things tliat were eatable and lay upon the table, 
There was splendid bread and butter, cakes, sausages and ham, 
Tongue, roast beef, pies and pickles, and various kinds of jam. 

In the middle of the table stood a bouncing plum cake, 

And many other niceties, we soldiers did partake ; 

For drink, we had good cotfee and plenty of good tea, 

And for waiters at the table, give me pleasant "thou and thee 1" 

Our Regiment, it mustered nearly a thousand men. 
There are very few boys left now, to see the like again, 
But every one felt grateful and would brag about that night, 
And if any one would mention it, he'd do it with delight. 

And many a soldier's fervent prayer has been offered up above. 
For those that showed the volunteers such kindness and such love, 
Maj^ the cause for which they labor, soon reach a happy end, 
And the volunteers return to home, in peace their days to spend. 

Some day, I hope to have the pleasure of giving you the 
contents of our three years cruise, not forgetting the old wood- 
pile at Fair Oaks, the old Constitution, Malvern Hill, Bottom 
Bridge, and last not least, the scrape you and Dan got your- 
selves into. 

It is done up in a rough state, without any preparation or 



20 THE HAVERSACK. 

consideration, but I often have some fun over the course 
events have taken. 

God bless you, Jack, and may you recover your sight, and 
may it be available for you to keep and steer clear of all rat- 
tling shell, bad company, and ultimately to see your way to 
the Kingdom above where there is no war nor any trials, but 
an eternity of love. 

Yours, Respectfully, 
Johnny Wapples. 



DESCRIPTION OF A BATTLE. 

A QUESTION often asked bj civilians and the uninitiated, is, 
" How do you feel when you go into battle ?" I will attempt 
to answer it, by stating my own experience in regard to the 
matter. 

Of course, as every one must be aware, one feels that his 
life is in imminent danger, and a nervousness creeps over him 
■when he gets "under fire" for the first time; but the sacred- 
ness of the cause and the example of others are great incen- 
tives to urge the soldier of the Union to resolve to do his duty 
and to bravely meet the foe ; and, after a little while, although 
he sees his comrades falling around him, he is determined on 
driving back the enemy, and every one strives to outdo his 
fellow-soldier in bearing up manfully to the end of the contest. 

A man's nerves are tried to the utmost during an artillery 
fire, when the command is given, "lie down," and every one 
hugs mother earth to seek protection as he has never done be- 
fore, no matter how disagreeable the soil may be, while a dead 
silence prevails through the ranks, so much so, that the least 
perceptible noise can plainly be heard. Then commences the 
piercing whistling and hissing of the shells and balls as they 
are hurled through the air above you, making you feel as if 
any moment may be your last. The idea of being torn to 
pieces by these deadly missiles is certainly not a very pleasant 
one. 

You pray that it may soon end — you wish that it was over ; 
but you know very well that to get up and run back would 
only endanger your personal safety, while a sense of duty 
holds you to your post. 

The firing ceases. You are then ordered up, perhaps to 
make a charge, or maybe to oppose the advancing columns of 
the enemy, and you feel much more at ease than you did 
while lying down and being shelled. 

Then commences the roar of musketry, and the excitement 



22 THE HAVERSACK. 

increases. A terrible noise is kept np, but the shouts of the 
men, who are gaining upon their enemy, is heard far above the 
din of battle. The voices of commanding officers, encoura- 
ging their men to deeds of valor and of daring, is also heard 
above the clamor and shouts of the warriors. 

The foe are gaining on us ; our lines are about to break, 
and perhaps, to retreat in confusion, when the well-known 
form of our beloved General is seen advancing ;)nd beckoning 
us to follow, and we rally, and with one deafening and pro- 
longed cheer, again advance, with the glorious stars and stripes 
unfurled to the breeze, to meet the rebel hordes and drive them 
back at the point of the bayonet. 

Thus, after a prolonged contest, we feel tired and worn out 
by the excitement and exposure, and we can lie down any 
where to rest our wearied limbs. 

The most heart-rending scene is to witness the battle-field 
after the fighting has ceased — to hear the groans of the 
wounded and dying, as they cry for help when no assistance 
can be rendered them, except at the sm orifice of life, and per- 
haps, not even then, as they lie between the contending armies. 
To hear the shrieks and cries of these poor suiferers is indeed 
distressing, and enough to make the stoutest heart quail. Of 
what incalculable benefit a cup of water given by a friendly 
hand would be at such a time, none, but he who has experi- 
enced it, can truly realize. 

Then surely he who risks his life and suflFers for the benefit 
of his country is worthy the assistance of his countrymen. It 
is the duty of every loyal citizen, whose friends are serving in 
the great volunteer army for the nation's existence, to encnur- 
age and aid them to bear up in their trials, especially the sick 
and wounded. 

Those who do not wish to risk their lives to engao;e in this 
great contest for the maintenance of our Union, should do all 
in their power to have the brave soldiers, wounded while fight- 
ing the battles of our country, properly cared for. 

Much more might be related of the sufferings of wounded 
soldiers, some of whom have lain on the battle-field for several 



THE HAVERSACK. Z6 

days without a morsel of food to appease their hunger, or a 
drop of water to quench their thirst ; and when thej did re- 
ceive assistance, it was often at the hands of the Sanitary 
Commission, but we trust enough has been said to induce the 
reader who is enjoying the comforts of a quiet home and living 
in peace and plenty, to aid in this worthy cause. 

David Q. Geiger, 

Sergeant, Co. H, 68tb Regiment, P. V. 



LIBERTY vs. TREASON. 

BY SERGEANT M. B. LADD, V. S. A. HOSPITAL, WEST PHILADELPHIA, PA. 

0, Lord of hosts, Thou mighty King! 

May we, in Freedom's name, fulfill 
Thy vast designs with humble hearts, 

And execute thy righteous will. 

God bless the Nation's mighty heart, 

And bless the brave, whose blood shall flow 

In working out the tyrant's doom. 
And laying treason's ensign low I 

By noble deeds which they have done — 

By triuniphs on the land and sea. 
Deep in the Nation's glowing soul 

Shall they, for aye, remembered be. 

The conflict rages fierce and wild ; 

Two mighty hosts, opposing, meet : 
See treason, with a form defiled, 

Lo 1 Liberty, angelic, sweet. 

Columbia ! 'Tis a glorious name, 

The dearest land of any clime ; 
Then never let her sink in shame, 

But make her future all sublime. 

See, now, the lines of battle stretch 

Beyond the dark Potomac's side ; 
While wilh a tearful eye we catch 

Each noble form with holy pride. 

Now rally round our banner bright. 
Hark ! 'tis the Country's startling cry! 

Strike ! ere her glory sets in night. 
Or Freedom shall forever die I 

Rise! Countrymen I Arise! Arise I 

Strike home, and break the tyrant's chain! 

And honor, honor ! to the skies 

Him, who is counted with the slain! 



WHAT A UNION WOMAN SUFFERED, 

OR, EXPERIENCES OF THE LIBBY PRISON. 

My Dear Miss : — I will give you, as you desire, an account 
of what I went through in the month I spent, as a prisoner in 
Richmond. It is not often in any one's life that such an ex- 
perience comes to them as that which I have gone through, 
and if you will not think my story too long, I will tell it just 
as it happened. 

In the hattle of Chancellorsville, my boy Avas wounded ; the 
fatal Friday which brought us all, at the North, such heavy 
hearts, came to me, with sad tidings, for I knew that my boy 
was wounded, perhaps more seriously than I thought. I was 
not long, as you may suppose, in making my way to him. Ob- 
taining through the recommendation of Governor Curtin when 
I reached Washington, the necessary pass for Falmouth, where 
I found my son in the Fitzhugh Hospital as it was called, the 
beautiful country-seat of the Hon. Henry Fitzhugh. The 
house was filled with our boys, suffering from fresh amputa- 
tions, some on the field, some just before I reached there, for 
this was but two weeks after the battle. My own boy, I found 
had had his leg taken off two days before I reached there, 
after a vain attempt to save it. 

Poor fellows ! how any one, just from home, mourned over 
the suffering they wei'e undergoing, and yet, this was comfort, 
almost luxury, compared with the sights and sorrows we had 
in store, in the many weary nights and endless days, of the 
wretched Libby Prison. 

God in His n>ercy, saved us from even the forebodings of 
such a fate. 

Mr. Fitzhugh's house, which had been converted into a hos- 
pital, was a large one, and the rooms on one side of the hall 
were reserved for the family ; the master of the house being in 
the rebel army. I had very little intercourse with the family 
in any way, but one thing which often occurred, struck rae 



26 THE HAVERSACK. 

rather an unnecessary piece of cruelty. Miss Fitzhugh's piano 
stood on one side of the partition between the rooms, and 
the table on which the amputations were performed on the 
other, and many a time, while they were going on, would she 
rattle off the most lively music, and sing at the top of her voice, 
the "Bonny Blue Fhig," which I was not then sufficiently 
well-taught to know, as one of the favorite rebel songs. I 
found after a little time passed, that Mrs. Fitzhugh had no 
objection to let me buy from her some little delicacy, such as 
chicken, eggs or milk, which made the fare of the sick boys I 
was nursing, rather better. My own boy, as you may not per- 
haps remember, belonged to the 90th Pennsylvania, and with 
him was a cousin. Shields, a brave fellow of the 6th Wisconsin 
Regiment. He had had his leg taken oif on the field, and 
they both needed all my care. Thus passed nearly a month, 
when the army of the Potomac was pressed on towards the 
North, to follow Lee into Pennsylvania, (as we afterwards 
learned) and our hospital taken possession of by the rebels. 

Captain W. L. Hunt of General Pender's staif, (C. S. A.) 
arrived to see what was the extent of his good luck in captur- 
ing our little band of wounded, and as there was not much be- 
side, to pride himself on, appropriated our hospital stores, lay- 
ing violent hands on lemons, brandy, and many things pro- 
vided for the worst cases. Our kind Surgeon, (Dr. Whitney, 
16th Mass..) whom we always gratefully remember, said to him, 
" Captain, do you take these things from wounded, dying 
boys ?" " Oh, yes, yes," was the reply, " we must have these 
things, they are needed," and his soldieus were ordered to fill 
the wagon and drive ofi" directly with our stores. How hard 
this was to see, 3'ou may know, when I tell you, that there were 
poor fellows then dying of fever, whose very lives hung on those 
supplies. Tavo of them died the morning after this happened. 

After two weeks, under rebel rule as prisoners, we were put 
into the cars for Richmond. My parting direction from Miss 
Fiizhugh was, that if I came to Falmouth again, I must bring 
her some new music ; it seemed like a mockery at such a time, 
aiid to any one with so sad a heart as mine. 



THE HAVERSACK. 27 

A heavy pouring rain made our journey more wretched, and 
as we passed through Guiney's Station, Milford, Hanover Junc- 
tion, and Ashland, the people would crowd about the stations, 

calling out, " Look at the Yanks ! the d d Yanks, prisoners !" 

This was our only greeting from the p^op/e of Virginia, as suf- 
fering, wounded, dying ; our poor boys passed on. The greeting 
which the Southern chivalry gave us in the persons of Captain 
Alexander, Colonel Winder and Major Turner, came later and 
even more thoroughly Southern in its intensity of contempt. 
Tuesday passed on and nearly half of Wednesday before we 
reached Richmond, and found a crowd assembled in Broad 
Street, to stare at and insult the " Yanks" as they were taken 
out, exhausted from their wounds, half starved and almost 
fainting from the long weary journey. You must remember 
that we had been on our way from Tuesday morning until 
Wednesday afternoon without provisions, medicine or relief of 
any kind ; two of our number drew their last breaths and were 
lifted out stiff and cold, but was not compassion more truly 
needed by us, the living, with the future before us ? They 
were at rest, the jeers and scoffs of those insulting faces ''and 
the pain of their taunting words could do them no more harm. 
Well might those who loved them, take comfort from the fact, 
they Avcre spared the last drop in their cup of misery on reach- 
ing Richmond. 

The prisoners were all quickly taken away to the Libby 
Prison, and before I knew what had happened, I found myself 
in a place, which I did not then know the name of, but which 
I afterwards found was Castle Thunder, a more hated and 
hateful place even, than the infamous Libby. Here I was 
mdely thrust into a room and told that I was to remain there. 
Fancy to yourself my desperation, in this wretched city,, in 
prison, and separated from my boy, for whose sake, even im- 
prisonment seemed light. I was worn out, fainting from 
want of food and thirst, for not a drop of water even had passed 
my lips since we left Falmouth. A wild sort of power seemed 
to nerve me and turning to Captain Alexander, I said in agony, 
" Never, never, will I stay here, by the help of Almighty God, 



28 THE HAVERSACK. 

jou shall never keep me away from my boy !" I need not tell 
you, the coarse language, the insults I called down ; the rage of 
this man vented itself in words and jeers which nj one with a 
spark of manliness in him could have used to a woman. Suf- 
fice it to say, that that God who was my only Friend, gave me 
His help, and after another hour of low insults, such as I do 
not dare to write, I reached the Libby and asked as a humble 
favor, a drop of water, "Certainly madam," said the young 
man at the desk, "Oh! thank God," I said, " for one kind 
word." " Oh, madam," he replied, " We are not all brutes." 
I then begged that they would only let me stay in any capacity. 
This was at first denied. I would not be refused. I would 
wash, scrub, cook, nurse, any thing, if only! might stay, and 
at last it was granted. I must not forget to tell you, that I 
was startled while I waa at Castle Thunder, with the most ter- 
rible shrieks, " Oh, don't kill me ! oh, massa, for God's sake 
don't kill me !" in the most piteous tones, and as I went out, 
could not but stop as I passed the room where the poor blacks 
were beaten. Tied so that they could not move, kneeling on 
the" floor, and stripped, the lashes as they fell, cut deep gory 
cuts, from which the blood fell. Oh, what a sight ! my im- 
ploring cries that they would shoot them at once, only brought 
me further insult ; and in the next room throuo-h which I went, 
were soldiers tied up by the thumbs, and in various positions of 
torture for punishment. Their own men, who for some crime 
or misdemeanor, were going through this punishment. What 
were the poor " Yankees" to look for, if this brutal treatment 
was inflicted on their own soldiers ? Do not think my dear 
friend, when you read my words, that I am exaggerating ; I 
give you the testimony of an eye-witness, and perhaps, that of 
the only Union woman who is able to describe the interior of 
Libby Prison. 

Three times after I came to Libby, did Colonel Winder send 
an escort of soldiers to bring me back to Castle Thunder, but 
happily they allowed me to remain where I was, and here I 
staid for a long wretched month, sleeping near my boy's bed, 
and nur, ing eight of our boys who came with us from Fitzhugh 



THE HAVERSACK. 29 

Hospital. I dressed their wounds and watched and nursed 
them as carefully as I could, and I cannot but believe, that the 
care I was able to give them, saved their lives. They thought 
so at at any rate, and often thanked me for it. The food they 
gave us was such as you have often heard described. The rice 
was filled with black worms, the soup the sickest boys were 
asked to take, covered with maggots, which they were obliged 
to skim off, before they could summon courage to swallow it. 
If you would make the contrast stronger, think of the treatment 
of wounded rebels within our lines, after Gettysburg — no com- 
fort spared, no alleviation in the way of stimulant, food, or 
delicacy wanting to bring them back to health. I will spare 
you the details of the sufferings of the intense heat, made more 
dreadful by the vermin, which abounded every where ; no 
imagination can picture our days and nights. 

We were much astonished one day, by the entrance of the two 
officers, whose names are generally execrated by our prisoners, 
Major Turner and Captain Alexander. They announced, 
with some ceremony, that as the news had come that GAieral 
Burnside hadj^hung two of their officers as spies, the same fate 
awaited two Captains in the prison, Union officers, and that 
lots were to be drawn immediately. A sickening horror came 
over us. Permission was granted nthat any one the prisioners 
might select should draw the lots, and an old Chaplain, trem- 
bling with age and grief, was selected. We held our breaths 
while the box was placed in his hands, and the first paper he 
drew was read aloud, " Captain Sawyer." Captain Flinn's name 
followed, and then — I can scarcely tell you what followed, for 
no one in that room could hear unmoved, the fate of two of our 
own officers, and tears and deep silence followed. In a few 
moments I saw from the window, a band of troops lead out the 
two doomed officers, hand-cuffed and guarded. I could see no 
more, for no otfier idea was before me than that they were to be 
shot before our eyes. The sequel of the story I never knew 
until I reached home, for when I asked, as I often did, what 
had been done with our two Captains, the answer always was, 
that they were in Castle Thunder. 



30 THE HAVERSACK. 

The long weeks sti*etclied themselves into a month, -when we 
were amazed bj the word-master's announcement, that any 
who " wished to go North, must go to-night." We scarcely 
could believe we heard aright. They really wanted room for 
the prisoners lately taken at Gettysburg, but we did not 
know that, and could not explain the order. " To go North !" 
you at home, can never realize Avhat those three words meant 
to us. Home and rest, and peace, and plenty. Kind words, 
kind looks, kind deeds, and sympathizing hearts, all this, and 
even more seemed concentrated in those words. 

" Oh, yes ! if you can crawl, or if you can't, don't be left 
behind, boys ! Go home ! and the Lord Almighty will take 
care of you." So I said to one of our boys, so ill that the 
ward-master advised him not to risk his life by the journey, 
but stay behind. He risked it however, and when I last heard, 
had lived through the fatigue and was safe in an Annapolis 
hospital, under our own flag, little chance as there seemed. 
About midnight we were set free from the hated walls of Libby, 
a relfel officer, standing with a loaded pistol in hand, to order 
every prisoner who passed out to drop his tin-cu^ blanket, and 
every article he had about him. 

Twenty-four hours in the cars brought us almost to City 
Point, where we were to tai^e the flag of truce boat New York, 
and as we drew near, I saw something red fluttering on the 
hill-top. I looked and looked again, high above us on the hill, 
was raised the rebel rag, but the wind of Heaven seemed to 
refuse to fill its folds, for it hung heavy and motionless, while 
far below fluttered and streamed upon our delighted and tear- 
ful eyes, our own old stars and stripes. It was one of those 
strange and impressive incidents that no one could fail to no- 
tice, and we all hailed it as a good omen ; and then the blessed 
truth came upon me, there was our own old flag. " God be 
thanked, that I am once more in a free country ! God bless 
the stars and stripes ! the dear old flag ! God keep it safe !" 
I scarcely knew what I said or did, my heart was so full. I 
was the first to see it, and after so many weeks, and weeks too, 
of such sufi"ering, you can never know how my heart went out to 



THE HAVERSACK. 31 

the old flag, so dear to us all. When the boys came to the boat, 
cheer after went up — how they shouted and waved their caps, 
when they felt that we were once more in the '' land of the 
free and the home of the brave !" 

I need only to say, that if any one wants to know how to 
love his country, to be true to her, never suffer a word or hint 
against her, from pretended friends or concealed enemies, let 
him spend, as I did, weeks in the famous Libby Prison, and 
his eyes will be opened to Southern institutions. 

Mrs. R. L . 

Philadelphia. 



WRITTEN ON THE EYE OF AN EXPECTED 
BATTLE. 

To-morrow 1 in its secret shade 

I little know what is for me ; 
I may be with my father laid, 

Or wrecked on dire misfortune's sea. 

Yet, far beyond life's boundary lives 

The everlasting array bright ; 
And He alone who takes and gives, 

Can guide my wandering feet aright. 

H. A. A., 12th, N, Y. 



U. S. A, Hospital, 

Annapolis, Maryland. 

May 15th, 1864. 

I WAS captured at the Battle of Chickamaugua, Georgia, 
September 20, 1863, and marched from the battle-field to 
General Bragg's Headquarters, a distance of twenty-two 
miles, through a scorching sun, and not alloAYed one drop of 
water, although there was a good spring at Ringgold, where 
we stopped an hour and were given one small ear of corn for 
rations ; then marched eight miles further, making a distance 
of thirty miles in nine hours ! 

After stopping one hour, we were compelled to move on, 
hungry and foot-sore, to Tunnel Hill, eight miles further, 
which we reached about midnight, where we found about two 
thousand of our prisoners. Here we remained until mid-day, 
on Tuesday, the 22d (I had been captured on Sunday, and 
kept on the field till Monday), when we were marched to Dal- 
ton, a distance of eight miles. Here I bought one dozen bis- 
cuit for ten dollars in Confederate money, which would have 
been twelve and a half cents at the North. We Avere marched 
through the town here, for a show, and then turned into a field 
to rest as best we might. I divided my biscuits with four of 
my companions, — the only food we had tasted, save one ear of 
raw corn, since Sunday morning, when we were taken. The 
next morning, we were piled into cattle cars, and sent to At- 
lanta, Georgia; here again, we were paraded through the 
streets as a show, and placed afterwards in a pen not unlike 
those at slaughter-houses for keeping cattle. We were marched 
in singly, each man having blanket, knife, money, and every- 
thing of any value, taken from him. We staid in the pen one 
night, and here had twenty-four army crackers and one pound 
of sour bacon given us, to last five days. 

Once more the morning found us packed in the cars, and off 
for that modern hell, (excuse the expression !), Richmond. 



THE HAVERSACK. ' 33 

Arrived there, or rather at Belle Island, opposite the city, on 
the 29th. We were afterwards transferred to the city, and 
confined in one of the tobacco warehouses, the condition of 
which I could hardly describe ; here we remained until Decem- 
ber 9th, when we were sent to Danville, Virginia, one hundred 
and fifty miles from Richmond. 

Our sufferings here were intense, from actual hunger. I 
have eaten mule and dog meat gladly, and have seen rats 
caught and devoured as eagerly as a hungry man would 
devour a nice roast of beef; and have also seen bones taken 
out of the spittoons, where they were completely submerged in 
filth, wiped off, put into cups, boiled, and the soup eagerly 
drank. Never, I think, since the war began, were prisoners 
treated as those have been in 1863 and 1864:. One word as to 
the deaths and burials there. After death, the body is stripped 
of all clothing, carried to the dead-house, left upon a stretcher 
with nothing to protect it from the rats or cats, as the doors 
ahvays stand open. I have seen a corpse so badly eaten in one 
night by rats that you could not distinguish one feature. I 
have also seen men taken to the dead-house before they were 
dead, — taken there in the evening, and found in the morning 
turned over on their face and the heart still throbbing. A 
case of this kind occurred in Danville, last winter. On a cold 
stormy night, one poor fellow Was carried out for dead, 
stripped naked, left upon a stretcher, no covering save a 
sheet ; the next morning, one of our men, in passing, noticed 
that he had turned over, and, upon examination, found him 
still alive, but so far gone that he knew nothing ; he had 
frozen to death, — his feet and hands were tied ; he had raised 
his hands to his mouth, for the purpose apparently of untying 
them, but was too weak to do it, and in this condition the poor 
fellow passed that long cold night, in company with eight of his 
companions wrapped in the cold embrace of death. He has 
gone, I trust, to a happier home, where, at the final Judgment 
Day, he will meet his murderers face to face ; and oh ! what 
a day of reckoning will there be for those who have tried to 
destroy the best Government the sun ever shone upon. They 
3 



34 THE HAVERSACK. 

will then find that an All-seeing Eye has watched their evil 
deeds and cruelties, and will most surely punish them. 

The long-looked for day at last arrived, when we were to be 
liberated ; and we were ordered, on the 21st day of April, to 
hold ourselves in readiness for removal to Richmond, prepara- 
tory to exchange. We were detained at Richmond till the 
29th, when we were paroled, and next day sent to City Point 
for exchange. Pen cannot describe my feelings. The sight 
of the dear Old Flag, and the thoughts of Liberty, brought 
tears to more than one eye. The boys could be seen standing 
in groups, grasping each other's hands, but with hearts too full 
for utterance, — the big tears stealing down their pale and hag- 
gard cheeks. 

We were transferred from the rebel flag-of-truce boat to our 
own, where we well cared for. Arrived at Annapolis May 2d, 
and were placed in the hospital here, where we have the best 
care, — good food, good beds, and, thanks to the ladies, (God 
bless them), the best nursing and comfortable clothing. 

William W. Wilcox, 

Cleveland, Ohio. 



MY FIRST SABBATH IN CAMP. 

During a period of nearly forty years wherein I have trav- 
eled much, I have had many oportunities of witnessing how 
this Holy day is spent in various countries. I have been 
greatly interested in the devout, and almost universal attention 
paid to it in very many of the cities and towns of our own 
States ; I have been struck with the deep and peculiar solem- 
nity of this day in the modern Babylon "London," the more 
striking perhaps to a stranger, from its ceaseless bustle and 
confusion during the continuous twenty-four hours of the other 
six days of the week. I have experienced the soothing influ- 
ence of the " Sabbath's holy hour " in many of the rural dis- 
tricts of this, as well as the Mother Country, and with feelings 
of gratitude to Him so appointed this "day of rest." I have 
listened, on my walk to the Village Church, to " the music of 
its bell, o'er the peaceful valley stealing." But I do not re- 
member that I have ever been more intensely pleased on this 
day, than I was on the first Sabbath which I passed in camp. 
'Tis there that the solemn peals of the ofgan — the well-ap- 
pointed choir — and the other concomitants of Divine service, 
to which we had hitherto been accustomed, were wanting, but 
instead thereof, we had the soul-stirring sympathy of Christian 
Soldiers, (hitherto strangers to each other,) met together for 
prayer and supplication to the Throne of Grace, under most un- 
usual and exciting circumstances, all amimated by fervent hope 
and humble trust in the Omnipotent arm of " The Lord strong 
and miglity, the Lord mighty in battle." I shall never forget 
the scene. Indeed, before our services commenced some min- 
utes passed in unbroken silence, as if every member of 
that small congregation were struggling with his feelings upon 
an occasion so difficult for us thoroughly to appreciate. Here 
were we, in a hostile and rebellious section of our distracted 
country; surrounded by all the ^^ pomp and circumstance' of 
war, just entering on a deadly struggle, in company with many 



oB THE HAVERSACK. 

thousands of others of our fellow citizens, who had voluntarily 
left their peaceful occupations, their temporal prospects, and 
the many comforts of " Home, sweet Home " in the loyal and 
honorable endeavor to reestablish peace, and secure to our 
posterity the blessings which we, and our forefathers have 
enjoyed under our National Banner ; here were we, so circum- 
stanced, uniting in singing praises and thanksgiving to the 
great Architect of the Universe for past blessings, and invok- 
ing his Almighty aid to succor us in this our nation's time of 
trial. More than an hour was thus passed, and still we staid, 
unwilling to break the peaceful quiet of our happy meeting ; 
and feeling that we were enjoying the fulfillment of His prom- 
ise, who said, " where two or three are gathered together in 
my name, there am I in the midst." 

Doubtless hundreds besides ourselves, can bear testimony 
to the efficacy of meetings similar to this, my " First Sabbath 
in camp." Since that meeting however, many of my com- 
rades have been hurried to their last account, by this fearful, 
decimating, fratricidal war ; but we believe that humanly 
speaking, they were prepared to meet even the last great 
enemy Death, cheered too by the knowledge that they were 
fighting in a just and holy cause, and that the future could, 
with humble submission, he left in the hand of Him who has 
faithfully promised to be a " Father to the fatherless, and 
to maintain the cause of the widow." Ward I. 



ON AN OLD BATTLE FIELD. 

No foe is near, and once again 
We have possession of the phiin, 

Whereon a thousand patriots fell, ' 

Beneath the storm of shot and shell. 

Wide-spreading fields of yellow corn 
Concealed our wary scouts that warn, 

While on the hill, and on the glade 

The rebel force were arrayed. 

The morning smiled — its face was fair, 
But there was murder in the air. 

The maples flamed in crimson hue. 

And soon the earth was crimson too ; 
The dreary lands and shattered wood, 
Your greedy sands now gorged with blood I 

We watched the slow-descending sun, 

We hailed the near approach of even. 
For then the dying could look up 
And see the pitying eyes of Heaven. 

John was our brave young leader there — 
The best of friends, and best of men — 

Oft, when I writhed in sharpest pain, 
His smile would make me smile again. 

We prayed together ere the fight — 

We fought together side by side — 
A shell exploded on my right, 
And, in the day's dim waning light, 

I saw him fall. Oh, God ! he cried — 
I knelt and prayed alone that night. 

The fields are full of shallow graves. 
That look like roughly-rounded waves, 

Upon a sea half hushed with dread 

Because it half respects its dead. 

The soil is rebel soil, you know, 
And does not choose to shield a foe. 

So from the graves without the wood, 

Behold the fleshless hands protrude. 

Arbutus blossoms climb and dare 

To bloom in hands so bleached and fair, 

And God's own birds frequent the graves 

To eulogize the sleeping brave. 

J. L , Ward E. 



A LEAF FROM MY JOURNAL. 

'TwAS a clear morning in September, 1863, when the sun 
rose and shed his gohlen light over the bloody field of Chicka- 
muagua, when a small body of soldiers lay on the piazza of a 
house near Lookout Mountain. This small party had been 
sent there to recover from the effects of the hard march and 
extreme excitement and fatigue of the few days that had' just 
expired. 

I had been suffering from chills and fever for a few days 
and was just preparing to take a little rest, when I saw that 
we were surrounded by guerillas, or men equally as atrocious. 
They proved to be a detachment of the 7th Alabama Cavalry, 
Colonel Malone. I think there was nearly a company of the 
blood-thirsty wretches. After we had surrendered, (which we 
were forced to do, as there were only eight of us,) they com- 
menced their fiendish taunts and insults, which seemed to 
amuse them very much. 

They ordered us to prepare for a long march, and conse- 
quently we were obliged to try to travel on foot, and when we 
had gone about four miles, nearly all of the eight prisoners 
had fallen from exhaustion and were unable to travel. 

The rebels held a mock caucus and concluded they would 
divide the prisoners and take them by different routes to Rome. 
Surgeons Hosack and Roswell Rothrock, who had charge of 
the sick, were als9 taken prisoners with us, until the caucus 
took place, when they were singled out for victims of the in- 
fernal cruelty of our captors. The rebels took them and all 
the rest of us, with the exception of three, on a different 
route, as they told us, and from what the rebels said they 
were to be hanged. 

I much fear that the rebels did shoot or hang them, as I 
never heard from them after we separated. 

They crowded two other soldiers, from my own regiment, 
with about sixty others into an old rickety box car and started 



THE HAVERSACK. 6\) 

US for Richmond, a distance of about nine hundred miles, but 
this was not done until after we had been taken to General 
Bragg's headquarters, who ordered us to be sent to the rebel 
capitol. 

I saw hundreds at Atlanta and Auo-usta, w'ho were sufferintj 
all the horrors of starvation. One of our officers, (a Major, I 
think,) attracted my attention; he was sick with a fever and 
lay in a building at Atlanta, with a cold chain around his ankle, 
while on the other end of the chain was an eighty pound ball. 

We saw nothing but horrors at every station, until we ar- 
rived at the modern Golgotha, — Richmond ! Here we were 
driven into Libby Prison like so many cattle, many of us were 
barefoot and hatless, while others Avere stripped nearly naked 
by the piratical pilferers that had beset us for the five hun- 
dredth time. The horrible cruelties that were practiced upon 
me and upon the others can never be told until the Book is 
opened at " the great and dreadful Day of the Lord." 'Tis 
truly heart-sickening to remember, and when I try to forget 
that I was chained and lingering in the horrors of starvation, 
my own ruined health tells me it is not all a dream! 

I cannot determine how beings having the image of man 
can be so cruel and lost to all sense of humanity, as Southern 
traitors are. It is a long-cherislied hate that actuates them, 
which amounts almost to monomania, and inspires them to ab- 
hor freedom and liberal institutions. 

I arrived at Annapolis Naval Hospital, October 29th, with 
about one hundred and eighty others, in a most wretched con- 
dition. Nine died on the flag-of-truce boat New York, and 
if I am accurately informed, more than half of the one hundred 
and eighty are now sleeping their long, last sleep beneath the 
soil of Maryland. 

A few days ago the steamer New York arrived with several 
hundred paroled living skeletons, and a great many of them 
will soon die, in spite of the untiring labors of Surgeons Van- 
derkrift, Ely, and many others, who are always at their posts 
in the hospital. The volunteer nurses from Maine and other 
States have nobly fulfilled Avoman's mission in ministering to 



40 THE HAVERSACK. 

the wants of the dying sohliers. May all connected with the 
Christian and Sanitary Commissions, live long after this war 
is over in the full enjoyment of the benefits of this great Re- 
public of Liberty ! America is but yet in her infancy. The 
soldiers of the Union army are not yet discouraged, and are 
firmly resolved to be free ; we love our own dear land, the 
birth-place and cradle of liberty ; we cannot for one moment 
think, that our own dear land of beauty will ever be named 
in the cataogue of fallen countries, like Italy, Mexico, Greece, 
and Poland. We shall yet have a peaceful home in the 
United States of America ! 

A. C. G. Slocum, 

Company C. 78lh Pennsylvania Volunteers. 
Annapolis, May 4th, 1864. 



A SERGEANT OF MASS. VOLUNTEERS. 

In passing through Ward , my attention was arrested 

by the looks of agony of a noble soldier, whose head was 
wounded by a bursting shell, fracturing the skull. The injury 
was attended by the most violent constitutional disturbance : 
no rest came to him, — food was loathed ; and one of Death's 
surest and swiftest messengers seemed only waiting to bear 
him away. 

At his bedside, I very often found myself, drawn by a sym- 
pathy not to be restrained. 

In the short intervals of his paroxysms of pain, he often 
spoke of a number of the occupants of the same ward, who 
seemed to be making 'great ado about very slight wounds, 
and who were ready with complaints of vague pains, and of 
various indefinable ills, when their surgeon was present, but 
who seemed to forget them all upon his leaving. The Sergeant 
was very much a,nnoyed by their noise over their cards, — their 



THE HAVERSACK. 41 

rough talking and laughing. Once, motioning me close to 
him, — for he was much prostrated, — and with a voice very 
low and faint, while a bright light rose to his eye, he said with 
earnestness, "I wish I were "a doctor! I began to study for 
one once," — and a half smile played around his lips, as he 
whispered, — " My preceptor made me tend the door, and that 
didn't suit, — that's why I ain't a doctor;" then resting for a 
moment, he added vehemently, his expression changing to 
apparent severity, pointing to a euchre-playing group, near 
him, "I'd send those knaves to their regiments, — they're 
shamming !" He could not understand that their hearts were 
less stout than his own, and he could not appreciate so small 
troubles as weighed them down. 

As weeks passed, he gradually convalesced ; his voice grew 
louder, and he told me much of his life, and more of his battle 
experiences, — for his regiment had often struck the foe, — with 
the most consummate drollery. Indeed, his style was strangely 
original in its earnestness and humor, and, as I soon learned to 
consider it, altogether inimitable. 

"I guess I've been a wild colt," he said, finishing an 
account of some pranks he had played when he was with the 
old doctor, his former preceptor, — and I found this very easy 
to believe. Then, with deepest feeling, he spoke of the fall of 
several of his comrades, in a charge on a rebel battery, at An- 
tietam, where he, too, received his wound. " Oh, I wish I 
could forget that I forced two of them back to the ranks, when 
they were carrying a dying comrade to the rear ; but I guess I 
was right. They both fell in a few seconds ; one fell gasping 
on my breast, with arm and shoulder carried away. I brushed 
him aside ; my God ! how his eyes followed me ! Rushing 
again forward, I was* struck, only to fall with my face close to 
that of the other, — his vitals torn by the same shell from which 
I was bleeding. He looked a long look at me; his lips moved; 
but he could not speak ; and he was dead !" As he told me 
this, so much more forcibly than my poor pen can write it, I 
seemed to read in his face what a fearful responsibility rests 
on the soul of one, who, conscious that he has destroyed the life 



42 THE HAVERSACK. 

of a fellow-man, examines his heart for the ultimate motive; 
and, surely, happy is he who in such moments, when the soul 
lies all tremblingly naked, finds devotion to duty, and not 
pride, passion, or ambition. 

Soon after, an indiscretion induced a relapse, and, as death 
again seemed near him, the Chaplain was sent for ; and as he 
seated himself beside his bed, and asked him of his prepara- 
tion for eternity, he answered, " I'm a Catholic, sir !" After 
adding a kind word, the Chaplain passed on. But no priest 
was called, and I soon mentioned the subject to him, when with 
a quaint look, peculiarly his own, he answered, "I'm not a 
Catholic, and I ain't going to die just yet. I haven't time to 
entertain him just now." * * In a few days he began to 
recover rapidly, and soon he talked of rejoining his regiment. 
His surgeon steadily refused his daily requests, — fearing evil 
results from exposure ; but at last, one evening, he found my 
room to tell me that it was all right now, — he would go to 
Boston to see a dear one of whom he had spoken, when he 
feared that his hold on the world might be loosening, and then 
he should go to his regiment. He seemed in great haste. 
"I can't learn to be a hospital loafer," he said, and was gone 
in a moment. A few days afterwards, I learned that, having 
procured a pass to town, he had gone outside the lines ; had 
been in Boston, and was again with his regiment. This much 
I learned ; but whether he now lives, or whether he is a sacri- 
fice to the promptings of one of the bravest and most fiery 
spirits that ever breathed, I know not. 

c. n. T. 



THE WAR. 

BY GARRETT B. CULIN, 
One hundred and eleventh Regiment Pennsylvania Volunteers. 

" Glorious news ! The rebels routed !" 

Cry the newsboys through the street, 
And the hearts that lately doubted 

With a thrill of gladness beat. 
" Twice five thousand captives taken 

At the closing of the fight ; 
Killed and wounded all forsaken 

By the vanquished in their flight." 

• Guns are flashing salutations 

To huzzas that loudly swell, 
And the atmosphere's vibrations 

Give expression to each bell. 
Thanks from many a Christian altar, 

Are sent up to Him on High ; 
But the thinking mind will falter 

To endorse the wicked lie. 

For Jle rules with love and kindness, 

Flowing in a ceaseless flood! 
Man's ambition, hate, and blindness, 

Answers for these scenes of blood. 
Not a single missile, flying, 

Is directed bj His will ! 
He selected not the dying, 

Aided none to maim or kill. 

Ponder, how our blest Redeemer 

Counselled ever love and peace. 
And your sinful prayers, blasphemer, 

Will in shame and sorrow cease. 
If you have a meed to offer, 

Give it where 'tis justly due ; 
To the men who nobly proffer 

Life and ease, for home and you. 

Friend meets friend with smiles of gladness, 

Proffered hand and words of cheer; 
Not a sign of grief or saduess 

In the crowded streets appear. 



44 THE HAVERSACK. 

Music on the air is streaming, 
Countless banners fan the si<ies ; 

Oh 1 awake from this fair dreaming, 
This is war in deep disguise. 

Come with me to yon lone dwelling, 

Whei'e the willow droops its head, 
And your song of triumph, swelling, 

Will give place to tears instead. 
For, upon the chance of battle, 

Here is one who staked her all ; 
Gave the son she taught to prattle — 

Gave him at his country's call. 

Mark that mother's visage solemn. 

Compressed lips and glances wild, 
Tracing down the printed column. 

Thinking only of her child. 
When the list is almost ended 

Comes a moan of deep despair. 
For the hope that she had blended 

With her fear is shattered there. 

Soothe that sadly stricken mother. 

Gently take her by the hand ; 
Be a friend, she has no other 

This side of the spirit land. 
Pour the oil of kindness often 

On her lacerated heart ; 
Speak in language that can soften 

And assuage her pain, in part. 

Down this lane there is another. 

To who•^e grief we may not go ; 
Dearer once than sister, mother, 

Wrestling with her speechless woe. 
He, whose presence e'er delighted — 

He, the comely and the brave — 
He, to whom her troth was plighted. 

Fills a soldier's shallow grave. 

Stop a while. A child is pleading. 

With a modest eye and tongue ; 
Can it be that war is breeding 

Sorrow in a breast so young? 
Hark ! he speaks : " Give me a penny 

Just to help me buy some bread, 
For at home we haven't any, 

Mother's sick and father's dead. 



THE HAVERSACK. 45 

" Two long years ago to-morrow, 

He departed for the fi-ay, 
Leaving us to pine in sorrow 

As he tore himself away. 
Once, when mother, feeling better, 

By the lintel took her stand, 
Came the postman with a letter 

Written in a stranger hand. 

" Eagerly she seized it. Reading 

With a tearless stony glare. 
But I knew her heart was bleeding — 

Breaking in her bosom there ; 
Not a friend (we ne'er had many) 

Comes to comfort her or bless ; 
Please to give me, sir, a penny, 

For I'm poor and fatherless." 

Turn we to the field of slaughter. 

Where the battle's fury burst ; 
Hear the wounded shriek for water 

To relieve their burning thirst. 
See, beneath the star-bespangled 

Dome of heaven, thickly lie 
Youth and manhood, torn and mangled, 

Praying earnestly to die. 

From the lips of wives and mothers 

Naught ascends but funeral hymns ; 
Round us, husbands, sons, and brothers 

Toil along with shattered limbs. 
Ruined lands and smoking village, 

Pleading forms that vainly ask 
Foemen not to burn or pillage — 

This is war without its mask. 

Know ye how to end this anguish 

Of our mothers, sisters, wives? 
Free the prisoners who languish 

Loaded down with rebel gyves ? 
Grasp with stern determination 

Every man a soldier's blade. 
And the flood of desolation 

By one etfort will be stayed. 



Nashville, Tenn., May 11th, 1864. 



U. S. General Hospital, Div. No. 2. 

Annapolis^ May 16tli, 1864. 



Dear Sir 



I have been requested to give some account of vrhat came 
under my own observation concerning the treatment of our 
brave boys by the enemy while they were in captivity. I 
arrived here from Gettysburg last July, and what I have seen 
since of the poor, starved, emaciated paroled prisoners has been 
truly appalling. 

Sometime in last September, I became able to leave my bed, 
and one of the first places I visited was a ward where two of 
these men were. One of them was a Sergeant in a New York 
Battery, and during the month of July he had been sent on a 
reconnoissance with a section of his battery, and while engaged 
with the enemy he was led into an ambuscade, and, contrary 
to all the usages of civilized warfare, he was shot through the 
right hand and left breast, without even a demand for his sur- 
render ; when the man who shot him fired, he was not more 
than ten yards off. For a few moments, the Sergeant thought 
his last hour had come, but finally he succeeded in crawling 
into the woods, and soon after the rebels came along and 
picked him up and carried him to an old shanty, which was 
used as an hospital. He was laid upon a bunch of straw, and 
a day or two after a man came in, and, looking around the 
hospital, saw the Sergeant, and coming up to him said, " Oh ! 
you miserable Yankee. It was I who shot you ; I aimed for 
your heart ; I meant to kill you, and I'm sorry that I failed." 
Such language to a man almost dead was anything but 
human. 

Soon after, he was removed to Richmond ; and the accounts 
he gave of the barbarities of Libby Prison were of such a cha- 
racter as to corroborate fully all previous accounts we have 
heard. He finally recovered so far as to be able to accept a 
command in the 1st North Carolina Union Volunteers, and is 



THE HAVERSACK. 4T 

now serving: in one of the forts on the Carohna coast. His 
name is Abraham Hamlin. 

Another case is that of a loyal Kentuckian, who was taken 
in a fight near his own home. When taken prisoner he was 
unhurt, but by forced marches he was taken to Richmond, and 
had been there but a little while, when one day, while looking 
out between the grating of his widow, the guard levelled his 
musket and fired at him ; the ball entered his right arm a 
little above the elbow. The rebel surgeons performed what 
they called an amputation, but it could scarcely be called that, 
as it looked as though it had been bitten oif by some wild ani- 
mal. That man was kept in Richmond until to all human ap- 
pearances, it was certain that he would die, and then he was 
paroled and sent to our lines, as they supposed to die. For 
weeks and months he lay at the point of death, but by reason 
of a good vigorous constitution, he rallied and so far recovered 
as to be able to return to his home in Kentucky. When the 
guard fired all he was doing was simply standing at the win- 
dow, in order to get fresh air. He was not even saying a 
word. All his crime was that he was a loyal Kentuckian, true 
to the Union. His name was Milton Walton. 

Another case I must mention was that of a Tennesseean, 
who was taken prisoner in East Tennessee, in 1861. He was 
trying with sone of his neighbors to get through to the Union 
lines, to join our army. After he was captured, he was taken 
to Knoxville, and placed in an iron cage and exhibited to the 
inhabitants as a specimen of a Tennessee Yankee. Remember 
that this man was a minister of the Gospel ; and because he 
could not countenance rebellion, and was seeking to leave the 
country, he was moved from one prison to another, until he 
had been in the prison at Atlanta, Ga., Columbia, S. C, 
Castle Thunder, Libby Prison, and Belle Island. He was 
offered his freedom, if he would take the oath, but he steadily 
refused, and finally, in November, 1863, he was paroled and 
sent North. This was the Rev. Mr. Darling. 

But the barbarities inflicted upon our men during the last 
winter have exceeded anything which I had supposed it pos- 



48 THE HAVERSACK. 

sible for a people that pretended to call themselves civilized 
could practice. Were not the evidences so overwhelming, I 
could not believe it. Our men have been crowded upon that 
dreadful island in James River, without .shelter, and, during 
the coldqst weather, without fire, and with scarcely enough 
food to keep body and soul together. They have been so re- 
duced by hunger, that they have caught the mice and rats, 
killed and devoured them, and they have eaten what you would 
scarcely think of giving to the swine. 

It was impossible for them to keep the lice from almost eat- 
ing them alive. The men would die at the rate of twenty and 
thirty a day, and their bodies would lie out until the hogs 
would devour their remains ; and when our men would beg the 
privilege of burying their friends, they would be driven away 
with insult. 

In the prisons and hospitals, the sights and scenes were as 
terrible and fearful as those upon the island. Men would be 
left upon the island until they could not possibly recover, and 
then they would be brought into the warm apartments of the 
hospital, when they would drop down and die by the score. 

To corroborate these statements, it is only necessary to go 
through the wards of this hospital, and see, not to say con- 
verse, with the poor emaciated specimens of what w^cre once 
strong vigorous men. With the care and attention bestowed 
here, they died at the rate of three or four a day ; and if they 
recover, (those who do partially recover), they will never be 
able to do any good service again. 

I could relate many more of the barbarities perpetrated upon 
our men, but my heart sickens at the recital ; and I will con- 
clude by saying that one of the strongest hopes I have of our 
ultimate success in this war, is the fact that there is a just God 
in'heaven, and He will not permit the people who support an 
unjust cause by such means to succeed. 

I am very respectfully yours, 

(Signed) Enoch K. Miller. 



THE HAVERSACK. 49 

We, the undersif!;ne(l, testify that the statements made by 
Mr. Miller, in the foregoing article, are not exaggerated, as 
we, by our own experience, can testify. 

(Signed) E. N. Darry, Co. B, 45th Ohio. 

Thomas Barnett, Co. D. 12Gth New York. 

Jacob Fernlass, Co. C, 100th Ohio. 

Mahlon Heacock, Co. G, 58th Indiana. 

ThOxMas J. Smith, Co. A, 7th Michigan Cav. 

George A. Straks, Co. A, 7th Connecticut. 

William Seaton, Co.. A, 27th Michigan. 



WILLIAM BRADFORD'S STATEMENT. 

The Third Battalion of the 16th Illinois Cavalry were loca- 
ted in Powell's Valley, West Virginia, during the month of 
December, 1863, for the purpose of guarding forage trains, 
which supplied Cumberland Gap, from the guerillas who in- 
fested the neighboring range of mountains, and who were sure 
to pounce upon any straggling teams, and gobble them sans 
ceremonie. We seldom camped more than a few days in any 
one place, moving from six to forty miles from the Gap, as 
the trains required our protection. There was a regiment of 
rebel cavalry in the neighborhood, but we never could come 
in contact with them, except by accident ; they always gave 
us a wide berth. Once we suddenly came on 150 or 200 of 
their number, when we had a most exciting chase over break- 
neck roads for seven miles. As soon as they saw us, " sauve 
qui pent'' was the order of march, and to expedite their escape, 
they threw away every thing that would cumber them. The 
road, for two or three miles was dotted with rifles, sabres, 
blankets, &c. We took thirty or forty prisoners, and gathered 
more than one hundred guns. 
4 



50 THE HAVERSACK. 

On the 1st of January, 1864, we moved to Jonesboro', thirty- 
six miles from Cumberland Gap, we were reinforced by part 
of two companies of the Second Battalion, and a rifled six- 
pounder cannon, and two mountain howitzers. Our whole 
force was 350 or 360 men, all told. Longstreet's forces were 
at Morristown ; and we knew, or ought to have known that 
part of his corps was not more than twenty or twenty-five 
miles from us. Early on the morning of the 3d of January, 
we were attacked by an entire brigade, which had marched all 
night, and surprised us shortly after daybreak. Our company 
(L) was three-quarters of a mile from the main body, which 
was in the village, and midway between them, in a very unsafe 
position, were the cannon. Though completely surprised we 
flew to our arms, and sheltering ourselves behind houses and 
what few trees there were, endeavored to stay their charge on 
the guns. We guarded well one of the roads, for not a man 
passed that way, and they recoiled from our well-aimed and 
steady fire. They diverged to the right through our camp, 
and by another road charged for the hill ; our resistance, how- 
ever, gave time for the main body of our men in Jonesboro' to 
come to our rescue. The rebels gained possession of the can- 
non, but only for an instant. They were retaken, and held 
until surrendered. It was folly for fifty or sixty of us to fight 
a whole brigade, but when attacked we supposed it was some 
of our old enemies, whom we despised, and thought it would 
be but half an hour's work to beat them back, when we would 
take our breakfast in peace. About half of our company es- 
caped to the hill, the rest of us, including the captain and 
one lieutenant were taken prisoners half an hour after the fight 
began. Lieutenant Osgood, as brave and true-hearted a patriot 
as ever drew sword, was killed. He would not surrender, but 
continued to fire as fast as he could load his rifle. No man 
was more beloved or regetted than him. 

The rest of the battalion formed on a hill and fought the 
whole rebel brigade, some 1600 or 2000 men commanded by 
General Wm. Jones, until 4 o'clock P. M., when their ammu- 
nition giving out, (nothing but pistol cartridges being left,) 



THE HAVERSACK. 51 

they were forced to surrender. After our capitulation our 
men were robbed of their overcoats, blankets, and what they 
had in their pockets. 

The next day we were started on our way to Bristol, Ten- 
nessee, the nearest railroad station, but eighty or ninety miles 
distant. Six days marching brought us to this place ; it was 
bitterly cold most of the time, and many of us suftered very 
much, having neither coat or blanket, and in many cases 
neither boots or shoes. We were as well used by our guards 
as circumstances permitted ; our rations were short, but so 
were theirs. As enemies, we had much to thank them for, 
as they did what they could to make the march as easy as 
possible. 

At Bristol we were packed in box cars and sent to Rich- 
mond, where we arrived in due time, and after being searched 
for money or valuables, were transferred to that Pandemonium 
of misery, Belle Island, where on a stretch of sand, under a 
hill, containing four or five acres, were huddled from 9,000 to 
10,000 men. For five weeks we were kept without a shelter, 
lying in holes dug in the sand, or in the ditches to protect our- 
selves from the piercing north, and north-west winds, which 
swept down the river. During this time we were fed on corn 
bread, so called, which looked as if cob and corn had been 
ground together. It was baked in a hurry, and as it was three 
or four inches thick the inside was perfectly raw, whilst the 
outside was burned. Of this compound, sometimes musty, 
sometimes hard as a stone, each man received twice a day, a 
piece three inches square. About half a pint of rice soup was 
served to us once a day, during the first weeks of imprison- 
ment. This was the manner in which the soup was made. 
First, the rice was steamed ; then a burly negro ladled out 
from one to two quarts of rice into a pail, which he then filled 
up with boiling water. This mixture, in which maggots were 
found, was an allowance for twenty men. Dry beans, worm 
eaten, black, and unwholesome were often given as a substitute. 
Meat was also nominally issued, but during the whole term 
of imprisonment of the writer he received but one half a pound. 



52 THE HAVERSACK. 

The liour of nine A. M. was appointed for sick call, when 
one could see, every day, from 100 to 200 hundred miserable 
beings tottering to the doctors, of which number 70 or 80 
would be sent to the hospital, and still there was no diminution 
in the daily attendance. Oh, it was heart-sickening ! Lan- 
guage cannot describe the scene ; poor creatures, ragged, fil- 
thy, and mere skeletons, seeking relief and finding none save 
in the grave. 

The writer, when almost reduced to starvation was fortunate 
enough to be sent to one of the Richmond hospitals. In these 
hospitals, there were cots with straw-ticks, but as usual swarm- 
ing with vermin, .and horribly filthy. The food was more 
strengthening, but very small in quantity, and barely sufficient 

to sustan life. 

* * *■* * * * ** 

On the 20th of March, the writer was among the number of 
paroled men, who were to be sent to the Union lines by the 
next flae-of-truce boat. We arrived beneath the shelter of 
the Stars and Stripes on the 21.st of March, Cheer upon 
cheer greeted the old flag as we came in sight'of it, and joy 
unutterable filled each trembling, grateful heart, as that em- 
blem of freedom and justice-announced our sufferings to be over. 
On the 28d we arrived at Annapolis, and 150 of the number 
were immediately sent to the hospitals, though we were not 
considered among the sick by the rebels. Many of our num- 
ber are disabled for field service evermore, Avhile months of 
care will be needed for us to recover from the effects of the 
treatment received while prisoners in the hands of the rebels. 



THOUGHT. 

[The following lines loere received from Annapolis, icith the statement, that they 
were taken from the pocket of a patient who died at Division Hospital, No. 2. 
The man had been a prisoner at Richmond, and came to the Hospital in a dying 
condition.^ ' 

'Tis mid-night ; and I'm seated 

In my quarters all alone ; 
But my thoughts are very busy 

Thinking, how the years have flown, 
Since I left my native village, 

Hid amidst New England's hills, 
Where the river ran so madly 

When 'twas fed by mountain rills. 
Where the sturdy cedars, clinging 

To the rugged mountains face. 
Shake their heads before the tempest 

Trembling, quivering to the base, 
Yet scorning to surrender 

Their footholds in the rock. 
Springing back into position. 

And its wildest fury mock. 

I am thinking of the loved one, 

Who sported with me there ; 
And that gentle, gentle mother. 

Who soothed my every care. 
I'm thinking of the church-yard. 

And the deep-toned, tolling bell, 
Of the gra\e3, beneath the locusts. 

Where the lingering sunbeams fell. 

I'm thinking, busy thinking, 

Of childhood's happy days ; 
Of my mother, sister, brother. 

Who joined me in my plays, 
I'm thinking I shall meet them 
^ When the storms of life are past. 
In that laud of light and glory, 

I shall meet them all at last. 

Composed by Sylvanus J. Kennison, 

Private, Co. I, 9tli Reg., N. H. Vols. 



DIED OF HIS WOUNDS. 

George Dash, private, company D, — th N. Y., had his left 
arm torn off close up to the shoulder joint by a round shot at 
the battle of Chancellorsville. 

The head of the bone was removed, cold water dressings 
were applied, and the usual treatment for stumps carried out. 

On admittance into the hospital the surgeon's examination of 
his patient read thus : present appearance of the man bad, the 
stump is sloughing with phagadoena, so much so, that the flap 
does not cover the part, and the adjacent tissues are very un- 
healthy. On the back are two bed sores each the size of a 
silver dollar, lips pale, tongue brownish red and dry, no appe- 
tite, pulse 102, height 6 feet, weight 154 lbs, measurement 
around the chest 36 inches. R. Tinct. FerricJdor. xxxgtt ; Quin . 
Sulpli. gr. iij. three times a day. To have beef essence as 
much as possible, one pint of porter a day, poultices applied 
to the wound, composed o^ Lint pulv. Carbon pulv. yeast q. s. 

July — th. The patient is better, Pulse 92. Tongue moist 
and clean. Relishes his food. Sleeps well. Ligatures all 
away. The slough has separated and granulations are begin- 
ning to spring up. The wound looks healthy every where but 
just around the vessels ; there the tissues are flabby and dark 
colored. Continue to take iron and quinine. To have beef- 
steak, boiled eggs, beef essence, and two pints of porter a day. 

We will narrate how the patient did from this time. At mid- 
night that same day George Dash began to bleed from his torn 
. and mangled stump. The officer of the day arrested the bleed- 
ing temporarily by the application of a styptic ; but at seven 
in the morning the vessel recommenced bleeding, and as it was 
impossible to tie the artery in the wound, owing to the diseased 
state of the part, it was advised to make an incision higher up 
and fasten the vessel there. 

This was accordingly performed, and the man, perfectly 
conscious through all the pain of the operation, expressed him- 



THE HAVEKSACK. 55 

self as pleased at the protection he thus gained from future 
accidents. 

He had lost a good deal of blood in the two hemorrhages 
and was much exhausted ; and his colorless lips, white face, 
upon which great beads of perspiration kept starting out, and 
sighing respiration, showed how near to " the valley of the 
shadow of death " he had been. Perfect quiet was enjoined, 
and for six days all went well ; but ou the seventh, as his face 
was being washed jets of bright scarlet blood shot out from the 
spot where the artery had been last tied, and the hemorrhage 
was only stopped by pressing of the finger hard upon the bleed- 
ing vessel. 

Now, what was to be done to save a fellow being's life ? 

In consultation it was decided that science could do nothing 
more than aid nature just a little ; and that little depended upon 
the skill and courage of fourteen Cadets, who were ordered to re- 
lieve each other night and day in pressing upon the open ves- 
sel, until a clot should be formed of sufficient density to arrest 
the passage of the blood. Here was a veteran who had fought 
in seven battles and had risked his life dozens of times in the 
excitement of action. Now he was more helpless than a puny 
babe ; for a misapplication of the finger on the proper spot — 
a slip of the artery under the pressure — and in two minutes he 
would be dead ! 

This was a fate more horrible than that of Damocles, and 
the man in the perfect possession of all his senses, knew it, 
and I believe experienced all the uncertainty of his living from 
hour to hour. Every thirty minutes the watcher was relieved 
from his cramped and stiff"ening position, one of the two fingers 
was slowly removed from the orifice to be replaced by a finger 
of his comrades, and when he was sure of its proper situation 
the other followed. 

There never was, and I doubt very much if there ever will 
be, fourteen human beings who think precisely alike, much less 
fourteen who would, if it were possible, act in perfect unison. 
Aside from this, it was an extremely difficult matter to find 
the exact spot to place the finger upon ; the wound was but 



56 THE HAVERSACK. 

three inches long, and fully two and a half deep, the edges 
were surrounded with dead flesh and the exudation of a sani- 
ous discharge — half blood and half matter — rendered it very 
hard to detect, by the sense of touch, what was all important 
to discover. 

In forty-eight hours bleeding took place again ; the wall at 
the head of the patient's pallet was spattered with blood, and 
the sheets and pillow were sopping wet with the tide of life. 
From this he rallied and bade fair to recover, if the bleeding 
could only be stayed for the future. At midnight it was again 
my turn, and at this time the man was extremely weak — so 
weak that he did not wince or show any sensibility when I 
placed my finger in the wound. Still be was all alive to his fear- 
ful position, and his eyes spoke volumes of helplessness and 
appealing pity. In that long ward, with its quadruple row of 
beds, the quiet stillness of the ni.ht was only broken by a few 
smothered groans from men in deep suffering from their many 
wounds ; and the restless tossings proved that the drowsy god 
would not mitigate the pain by sleep. Here and there some 
ghostly figure, clad in white, staggered from his bed to moisten 
his parched tongue with a little water. Only three out of the 
whole number kept watch and ward ; and they were a trio as 
unlike and as difi'erent as possible, instigated in their watchful- 
ness by very different motives. 

The patient, with his face as colorless as Parian marble, was 
lying still as death, with eye-lids partially open, and the balls, 
through weakness, turned up. What were his thoughts then ? 
He had told me, in whispered tones and with a look of pathetic 
earnestness, that "the next time he bled he should die " — and 
so he would, undoubtedly. Did he then dream of home with 
its thousand charms, its tender memories, and the anxious friends 
waiting for some word of his well-doing ? Or did he, in the awful 
agony, suspense, and uncertainty o^Jds life, try to solve the mys- 
terious hereafter, and prepare himself for the grand climax ? 

The student, with a man's life under his finger, true to his 
scientific teachings, thought of little but what he was engaged 
in. Accustomed to appalling scenes, this one had no terror 



THE HAVERSACK. 57 

for him, and his musings were on the inefficiency of surgical 
skill to save life. Pish — this life! what signifies this life? 
It's only an atom in eternity — a breath gone as quickly as it 
has been exhaled, and soon lost in the immensity of space. 
This life ! of what avail are its few years of many sorrows, and 
of no substance but that small portion of it we give to God and 
to our own soul ? This life ! what is it ? 

The patient did well through the night, but at six in the 
morning, as I again presented myself for duty, the crimson 
blood was welling and gushing up out of the wound over the 
hand and up the arm of the cadet, dying with sanguineous hue, 
the face and clothes of the helpless man, and dripping in little 
puddles on tiie floor. A handkerchief hastily snatched and 
crammed into the orifice was all that could be done ; but too 
late to save poor Dash from going where hundreds of men go 
who die af their wounds. E. S. 



THE MASSACRE AT FALLS CHURCH. 

The brigade of the late General Edward Baker, was camped 
for some weeks in August and September, 1861, at Fort 
Marcy, Faixfax county, Virginia, one of the numerous forts 
which now environ the city of Washington with a wall of im- 
passable fire. 

The picket lines of the rebels were not half a mile from our 
own, and in the tranquil evenings of summer, the music of 
their dress parades was often heard from our outposts. This 
close proximity frequently led to sanguinary encounters, pro- 
voked as much by accident, perhaps, as by design, but usually 
productive of unimportant results. 

As the Fall advanced, it was ascertained that the rebels had 
retired from our front. Orders accordingly reached us to fol- 
low them up and determine their position. With this intent 
we " fell in " for a night-march, at 8 o'clock, P. M., on the 
28th, of September, a dark and cloudy night. The hilly and 
tortuous road, like most of those in upland Virginia, led at 
frequent intervals, through dense and shadowy wood, and be- 
fore we had progressed three miles, innumerable trees felled 
across the road brought our column to a halt, until a regiment 
of pioneers was ordered up to clear the way. After a delay 
of an hour or two our march was continued, but under orders 
to observe the strictest silence, and with vigilant lines of skir- 
mishers covering our front and flanks. We were in expecta- 
tion, at every step, of stumbling upon the foe. At about six 
miles from our camp our road was met at right angles by the 
"Falls Church " road, and as that village was our destination, 
we turned the corner under the thick eclipse of the overhang- 
ing trees. The soft and dusty soil muffled our footsteps, and 
it would have been difficult to imagine in the silence of our 
movements, that several thousand men were "marching along." 
When the head of our noiseless column reached the duskiest 
portion of the wood, a sudden volley of musketry from the left, 



THE HAVERSACK. 59 

and only a few paces distant, illuminated the darkness with its 
portentious glare. The leading battalion instinctively taking 
the defensive, returned the fire without awaiting orders. The 
horses of a battery which followed it, startled with surprise, 
wheeled suddenly round, trampling upon the nearest soldiers, 
upsetting and breaking a caisson or two, and then tearing them- 
selves loose, rushed away towards the rear until arrested by 
the bayonets and bullets of the troops. A scattered, but fu- 
rious fire was being exchanged between the unseen foe and the 
leading battalion. The field ofiicers of that battalion were at 
the moment absent, and its companies left to themselves, car- 
ried on the conflict at discretion. The commander of the se- 
cond battalion inferring the aifair to be an ambuscade, at the re- 
port of the first musket, turned his men past the battery, (which 
was quickly unlimbered and in position,) an*d giving them impera- 
tive commands not to fire without instructions, rode through 
the fire to the head of the column for instructions. His chiefs 
being absent, he assumed the general command, caused the 
firing to be ceased and returned toward the battery, in quest 
of General W, F. Smith, just as its vollies (by some unex- 
plained and unaccountable error) v/ere about to be discharged 
into our own column in advance of it. By summary inter- 
ference the colonel's regiment was saved from annihilation. 
At this moment a number of stragglers from the extreme front 
who had broken from their ranks into the woods behind them, 
crossed over towards our column, were greeted by a fire from 
that quarter, under the impression that they were enemies, a 
circumstance, which in the darkness reawakened for a time the 
confusion which had just subsided. These events occurred be- 
tween the hours of twelve and one o'clock at night, and for 
raw troops, afi"orded opportnnity for displaying (as Napoleon 
termed it) " their one o'clock in the morning courage," which 
is a very. difi"erent thing from the courage of the open day. 
For the most part their bearing was irreproachable and worthy 
of veterans, save a few individual exceptions. As soon as our 
own firing was arrested that of " the enemy " was likewise sus- 
pended, and we, halted on the spot until daybreak : then it was 



60 THE rfAVERSACK. 

discovered that the supposed enemy was a picket-reserve at- 
tached to the division of General Fitz John Porter, who had 
command of the lines immediately upon our left ; and which 
from the most culpable negligence, or from reasons still more 
atrocious, failed to receive the necessary instructions that we 
were coming. To make the subject, if possible, additionally 
unintelligible, the officer in command of skirmiskers at the head 
of our column (who had obtained the countersign that evening 
by accident) was the only officer in the battalion who possessed 
it, and he had exchanged it with General Porter's pickets, 
when hailed by them as he passed. The result of this encoun- 
ter was eight men killed and sixteen wounded. Whether it 
could have been a. snare especially intended for General Baker, 
may perhaps never be explained, but many and anxious sur- 
mises, growing out of*the rancorous and illy disguised jealousy, 
which was entertained of him by officers then high in authority, 
were afterwards muttered in dismal Avhispers, by those who 
witnessed his subsequent fate. He was casually detained in 
Washington that night, and was thus reserved for that later 
sacrifice, which must forever render Ball's Bluff a subject of 
memorable and melancholy suspicion. 



LIBRARY of'congresS 



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